The cold was killing us both.
Renzo.
The thought hit me like a fracture.
Poor Renzo.
He had chosen not to humiliate me.
He had stood up for me.
Chosen to believe me—at least enough to resist.
And now?
He would die for it.
Because Violet wanted revenge.
Because Ciro wanted control.
Because someone needed to be blamed.
Three lives.
Mine.
My son’s.
Renzo’s.
All because of jealousy. All because of lies.
All because of a truth no one cared to hear.
The cold intensified.
The hum of the refrigeration system deepened, louder now—like it was feeding on something, drawing heat from every living thing inside the room.
My breath came in shallow, trembling gasps.
Each inhale burned.
Each exhale weakened me.
It felt like breathing shards of glass.
My saliva thickened in my mouth, then chilled, freezing against my tongue.
Words became difficult.
Sticky. Broken.
“Help...” I choked out, my voice barely audible. “Someone... please...”
But no one answered.
No one ever would.
